Hero Of War
by nightwish-shadowstalker
Summary: SONGFIC, one-shot. Based on 'Hero of War' by Rise Against. I don't own the song, but I do own all the characters.


**A/N: Songfic. Based on "Hero of War" by Rise Against – YouTube it, it's important. ****Rated for a ****lot**** of swearing, mild violence and mentions of drug abuse/depression/serious violence.**

**UPDATE: Took down all the lyrics. Admin were complaining.**

We stood on a hill in the park, watching the flag on the town hall flutter in the breeze. I savoured the view; my home, my places, my flag waving proud in the autumn air. "Guess I won't see this again for a while."

It was one of those moments – do you know what I mean? – when everything feels like it's going right and you feel like you can do anything. You feel infinite. The moment was abruptly broken by a single harsh laugh.

"You won't feel so bloody infinite when you come home again, will you?"

I turned to look at Rat, sat on the damp grass, smoking a cigarette. "Those things are gonna kill you one day, you know."

"Says the one going to fight the 'terrorists' in Afghanistan," she retorted, throwing down the butt and getting to her feet. "You've changed, Sam."

I turned away from her, looking out across the town in the fading light. "Not this again."

"Yeah, this again," she said dryly, fiddling with her lighter. "If you listened to me, I wouldn't have to keep saying it, would I?"

The glow of the end of the cigarette was the only point of light now on the hillside. I watched the coil of blue-grey smoke dissipate into the cool air and thought of the poison she was breathing.

"What happened to us, Sam?"

The question caught me off-guard. "What do you mean? We're still best friends, aren't we?"

She smiles, but there's something else there. Pain. "Yeah. We're still best friends. Fire and blood and all that." We made a promise – almost a blood oath – a few years back, swearing to look out for each other through fire and blood and darkness and fear. "But what happened to us? What happened to the kids who went to every Rise Against show and sang every fucking word? What happened to the kids who dreamed of being in a punk band?" She takes a step closer to me and takes my hand in hers. "I miss them, Sam. Where did they go?"

I yanked my hand back like she burned. "Grow up, Lily." I didn't want to hear it. Using her proper name – instead of just calling her Rat like I had since we were kids – was a way of pushing her back. I'd been using it more and more, hating myself for it.

The next thing I remember was her fist colliding with my jaw. _God, she has one hell of a right hook – well, seven years a black belt, I shouldn't really be surprised._ I reeled back, clutching my jaw, eyes watering. With the glow of the streetlights behind me, I could see the tears glistening in her eyes.

"Grow up?" she snarled, blood dripping off her knuckles. "Grow up? Is that what you think you've done? You've surrendered, Sam. You gave up! You quit because standing up for what you believed in was too fucking difficult." She was trembling with pent-up fury and sorrow. I remember her being like that with bullies in high school – she got picked on a lot. Because she was a girl. Because she played sports and she played better than half the guys. Because she refused to listen to 'normal' music and wear 'normal' clothes. She used to defend me as well.

And then she reacted on me.

She was still yelling. "How many lives lost over a fucking flag? How many lives ruined? How many kids coming home in boxes?" She paused, took a few deep breaths. I knew her well enough to know that now she was really dangerous. Some people are like petrol bombs – one big _whoosh_ and it's all over. Lily is more like a field full of mines – you don't know when she's going to blow, but you know it'll be bad. Now it's the worst part. The verbal barrage. The viciousness. If it had been anybody else acting like this, I'd already be halfway down the hill. But this was Rat.

"Lily, please, stop, just talk," I said carefully. "Just talk to me. We can talk about–"

"No – we – can't!" she shouted furiously. "No we fucking can't." She was crying properly now, tears running down her cheeks. I stepped towards her, trying to comfort her, but she shoved me away hard.

"Fine. You know what? Fine. Go to Afghanistan. But don't come crying to me when your conscience catches up to you. When the real Sam gets back."

"Lily, it's me, I'm Sam–"

"No, you're not. Sam – my Sam – would never have joined the army. He'd never have given a damn for the government. He'd never have wanted to 'fight for America'." She turned away from me, still crying, and whispered to herself, "Sam, where are you?"

"Lily, stop it. Stop it! You're scaring me."

"Oh, am I? Really? Good!" she snapped. "Now you know how I felt when you told me you'd signed up." She grabbed her rucksack off the grass and slung it over one shoulder. "I lost somebody I loved that day. Now you know what it's like." She started down the hillside, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. I stood there for a second, frozen, before I followed her.

"Lily! Lily – Rat, wait, I need to say – before I go – I love you."

She stopped in her tracks, but didn't look back or turn round. I stepped in front of her and lightly rested my hands on her arms. "I love you."

She didn't look at me. "I've been waiting eight years for you to tell me that."

I was lost for a second. "I – wait – what?"

She smiled, but there was no happiness in it. "You knew how I felt from the start. Now is not the time to try and play with my feelings." She pulled away, and I let her go.

As she walked away, she asked, "Do you even know what you're fighting for?"

I couldn't answer her. The words wouldn't come. I didn't know, and that more than anything else terrified me.

"Goodbye, Sam."

I barely heard her over the roaring in my ears. _I don't know. I don't know. I don't know._

I stood on that hill until long after dark, searching for an answer. Hoping. But there was nothing I could say.

I kept searching for three weeks. I was turning the events of that night over and over in my mind. The only coherent thought was of Lily.

"_I've been waiting eight years for you to tell me that."_

"Oh, I'm so proud of you!" My mother's voice stood starkly against my inner turmoil. Sheer force of habit, more than anything else, brought Rat's sarcastic tones to mind in response. She'd never got on with my mother, who was a typical God-fearing, gun-loving, right-wing American woman. Considering that Rat was an atheistic, anti-gun, liberal teenager who spoke with a British accent, it wasn't surprising that they never saw eye to eye.

'_What the hell have you got to be proud of? That your son's going to become a murderer?'_

"My son, the American hero," Mom continued, a broad smile on her face. "Carrying the flag for God's country. Bless you, my boy."

'_What God?'_ Rat asked inside my head. _'The same one that endorsed rape, infanticide and murder of the unbelievers? And the 'God's country' thing is from England, by the way.'_

"Your daddy would be so happy, God rest his soul."

'_What, that you're going to end up the same way he did – coming home in a wooden box wrapped in Old Glory?'_

"I wish he were here to see this."

'_Do you really think he'd still tell you to go?'_

Mom hugged me tight. "I love you, son."

'_So do I,' _Rat said._ 'Eight years I've waited for you, sunshine. I'm still waiting.'_

I was torn. I couldn't do it, could I? Not to my mother. But Rat… I couldn't do that to her, either.

'_It's your life, man. Not hers, not mine, definitely not Christ's, and sure as hell not America's. It's your call. What are you gonna do?'_

The fact that it was Rat's voice I thought of first kind of made the decision for me.

"Mom, I can't do this. I'm not going to Afghanistan. I'm leaving the army. I'm sorry."

She drew back, angry and upset. "It's that girl, isn't it?" She'd never call her Lily, or even Rat. It was just 'that girl'. "You're doing this because of her."

I nodded. There didn't seem any point arguing. In a way, I was relieved. "Yeah. Because I love her. And she's been waiting for me for too long."

"That… heathen? That poison?" She was horrified.

"Look at things from her perspective. That's exactly what she sees you as."

I left before the shouting started and walked to Rat's place. The cold air sharpened my senses, and for the first time in a long time I started to think about all the plans we made together. The dreams of being in a punk band and writing the song that could change the world. Maybe we could get the band back together.

Rat lived with her parents in the – well, most of the town was pretty bad, but Rat lived in one of the worse parts. There was always something illegal going on – drugs deals, murder, arson, you name it and it was probably happening within a few hundred metres of her flat. So when the ambulance sped past, sirens wailing, I didn't think much of it, I was so used to hearing it.

It was only when I realised I was following it that a knot of fear started to form. I was hoping that it wouldn't be what I thought it was – _please, no, not today, not when things are finally starting to change for the better_. When I got to her block, they were parked outside. I looked up – fourth floor, second window from the left. I couldn't see anything. When I dialled her number and got the answer phone message, I nearly screamed. I knew she'd had problems in the past. Family history of psychosis. Depression. Anger issues. She'd attempted suicide more than once. Both times I'd been on the other end of the phone line, talking her into putting down the knife or the bottle.

"Please," I whispered. "Not today."

"Not today what?" someone asked behind me. _I'd know that sarky voice anywhere._

"Rat?"

She smiled at me. "The one and only." She took my hand. "Why are you shaking?"

I pointed at the ambulances. "I ended up following them here – and I tried to ring you – got the answer phone – I thought–"

"But I'm not," she said calmly. "And I'm guessing you're not going anywhere."

I smiled properly then. "No, not me. So many lives have been ruined by that flag. I won't let it take yours and mine."

She smiled up at me. "Through fire and blood."

"Through the fear and the night."

"We'll face it together."

"And we'll make things right."

"Through anger and pain."

"I'll stand beside you."

"We'll face it together."

"Because that's what friends do."


End file.
